


Dean's

by CastielsCarma



Series: Destiel ABC [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot of hands, Destiel Port Facebook Group (Supernatural), Hands, M/M, Meet-Cute, Prompt Fic, creature!cas, sexy dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielsCarma/pseuds/CastielsCarma
Summary: One day Dean hears a voice coming from under his fridge.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel ABC [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559902
Comments: 31
Kudos: 220





	Dean's

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was born from a longer prompt in Destiel Port on FB. It's part four of an ongoing Destiel series. If you like this, check out the previous ones. 
> 
> As always, hope you enjoy and thank you for reading.  
> Comments give me life <3
> 
> Prompt from this page: https://www.facebook.com/DreadpunkGothicHorror/photos/pcb.1376315432548479/1376315245881831/?type=3&theater&ifg=1

Dean hated dick. Not in the normal sense, hell, he wasn't picky, he liked dick _and_ pussy but he really hated dick. With a capital D. Dick fucking Roman was his new boss and for some reason, the douche had decided that he had a bone to pick with Dean Winchester. 

Dean was not above boning people, but that was the good kind of bone, the same kind of good as the leftover bone from a nice thick steak or a juicy piece of chicken. But Dick Roman was the kind of dick you wanted to kick in the nuts, the kind of person you hoped would _really_ break a leg when he asked you for good luck in the next board meeting.

Tossing his jacket on the couch, Dean toed off his shoes and went straight for the fridge. Evening had come and almost turned into night before he'd been able to leave work. 

Although he could go to the Chinese place around the corner and grab some Szechuan duck or pork and ramen stir fry, his grumbling stomach objected to even that. It was time wasted when he was hungry right now, starving really. 

Loosening his tie, Dean opened the fridge. An open milk carton, a sadly forgotten carrot in the corner, some ham and garlic mayo. Opening the egg carton he found two eggs, one was cracked. The freezer was not better, he didn't even have leftovers.

Leftovers! Dean opened the fridge again and moved the milk carton. Bingo! He grabbed the leftover chicken and garlic mayo. In the cupboard, he found a roll that had not yet turned to stone. Sure, it had some crunch but right now Dean wasn't picky. He plated his gourmet dinner and sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

Fucking bastard. Ever since Dean had returned from Sandover in Gothenburg after a two-year stint, where he'd implemented new governance for the project processes that actually worked and made the work efficient, he'd kind of loathed his job. He dunked the chicken in some mayo and chewed. That was not really true either. Dean loved his job, but he was frustrated and frankly pissed that the position as a project manager hadn't gone to him. And it was _not_ because he was not qualified, that fucking position was basically written with him in mind. Then Dick had come along and mumbled about giving everyone a fair chance when one, no one else wanted the job, at least not within the company, and two, his experiences abroad was almost tailored to fit the position. 

Taking a bite of the bread, Dean turned on the TV. He really didn't need a boss who was busy measuring dick sizes instead of doing a good job. Man, he hated office politics. He flipped through the channels with greasy fingers and settled on some baking cook-off. 

When he found himself dozing off a half-hour later, Dean decided that enough was enough. Time to hit the bed. Walking back into the kitchen with his plate full of discarded chicken bones and the garlic mayo he opened the fridge with one elbow. As he put the mayo back inside, his plate tilted to one side, and a piece of chicken bone slid off. Moving in frustration, he accidentally kicked the bone under the fridge.

“Son of a bitch”, he mumbled. Whatever, he'd pick it up as soon as he discarded his plate in the dishwasher. As he walked passed the fridge, he heard a quiet voice.

“Thank you.”

“No problem”, was out of his mouth before his mind even had time to register what the hell was happening. Dean froze mid-step as goosebumps rose on his arms. His neck prickled in warning. Swallowing, Dean turned towards the fridge. He could have sworn the sound came from _under_ the fridge.

He put the plate down, contemplating what to do. He was not stupid, he'd seen enough horror movies to know better than to bend down and stick his head in trying to get a peek at whatever dwelled underneath. 

“Sorry for the dust bunnies, I kind of never clean down there.”

Silence greeted him.

Dean blinked. What the hell was wrong with him. Maybe there had been something in that chicken. There _had_ to have been something in that chicken, cause now Dean was having a conversation with his fridge like a freaking loony person. This was all a hallucination. Work had finally gotten to him. 

Dean rubbed his eyes. He needed a vacation.

Suddenly it hit him. The lack of tiny cobwebs in the corners, even in the laundry room. And when was the last time he'd seen cockroaches? He knew the apartment complex had done a sanitation a few months back, apparently there'd been a problem but he hadn't seen any, even back then.

“You? You've been eating the goddamn cockroaches and spiders, right?”

Again, silence greeted him. 

Dean clicked his tongue. He knew what he'd heard, no matter how crazy he sounded. And he sounded fucking insane, even to himself. Could you hop on the express train straight to crazy town, no detours, during the span of a nap? Yeah, the answer was yes. 

Fucking Christ.

“Look, I have some bone with a sliver of chicken left. I was gonna throw it away but maybe you could use it. Do you... want it?”

The voice under the fridge sounded louder now, tinged with an odd dark vibrato.“Yes, I'd appreciate that. Thank you.” 

Well, look at that. Whatever this... thing was, it was well-mannered. 

“I haven't gone grocery shopping, so my fridge is kinda empty but I also have, um, an egg. It might have gone bad though, a tiny crack in the shell but – “

“I'll eat it.”

“You'll eat...”

“I'll eat anything.”

“Are you sure, I don't wanna – “

“Eat it!”

Dean blinked. Alright. Opening the fridge, Dean grabbed the egg too. 

He just kicked the chicken bone under the fridge but didn't really know what to do with the egg. Bending down he placed it near the fridge's bottom and smashed the egg as far inside as he could. 

He really didn't need to question if he was crazy, this right here was proof enough.

For being whatever, it was really quiet. Dean put away his plate and grabbed a glass of water. No beer for him thank you. Talking to things under the fridge while sober was bad enough, he didn't wanna think about what could happen if he swiped a few beers too.

“Um, are you thirsty? I don't know if you drink or not?”

“Yes, please. You have ice?”

He had ice. Dean cupped a hand and pressed the ice maker button until he had a nice heap of ice in his palm. Already it was starting to melt, so Dean dropped the cubes on the floor and kicked them under the fridge with a foot.

“Better?”

“Yes, much better. Thank you.”

Dean swiped the wet hand over his face but it did nothing to mitigate the tiredness he felt creeping upon him. Despite the nap he'd had, his body demanded more. Welcome to the forties, Dean Winchester.

“Look. I need to hit the sack. It's been a long day and I need sleep, and my shoulders are killing me. I guess you're... stuck there? Otherwise, you could've, I don't know, gone through the garbage or something?” 

“I'm... stuck, yes.”

“Alright. Just under the fridge or can you move to other places?” Dean was not sure were all these questions would lead to but he felt he _had_ to ask questions. It was not every day you discovered something under your fridge.

“Sometimes I move to other places.”

“OK...So you just have a weird thing for fridges or do you dig other appliances too?”

There was a slight pause. Dean wasn't sure if the thing was offended or just thinking but when it started to talk again, it sounded the same as before. A dark deep voice with that odd vibrato.

“Sometimes I do move. In the same place though.”

Apparently, it wanted to play the Sphinx with its vague and cryptic answers. Dean was not sure if he should push it or not. He might turn into a toad or get eaten by his special guest.

“Do you always stay here or do you have to...wander off to other fridges?” What was he doing? It was not like he was going to write a paper on this thing. But he would lie if he said that he wasn't at least curious by this creature that inhabited the space under his fridge.

“I'm always in the same home.”

Dean exhaled. Maybe it was some kind of... house elf, like Dobby in the Harry Potter books. It was worth a shot. “You need a sock or something? To set you free?”

A weird rumbling could be heard from the fridge. If Dean didn't know better, he'd assume the thing was upset.

“I'm not a house elf!” The voice was tinged with irritation and almost sounded offended. 

Dean raised his hands. “Alright, my bad. Well, I'll just remember to feed you now and then. Give you some chicken skin, ham and what not. Good?”

“Yes.”

That was that. Dean rolled his shoulders and winced. The dull ache he'd been harboring in his muscles all week had now turned into full-blown pain. He needed a new chair, or desk. Preferably he needed a new job. Or a new boss.

“You're in pain?”

Dean shrugged which only made it worse. “Nah, well, yeah, but it's just a shoulder ache. I'll hit the bed and tomorrow I'll be brand new.”

“It'll be better?”

“That's the plan.” Dean shuffled out from the kitchen and undressed. He felt like a zombie. Maybe this was all some weird hallucination brought on by him working way too fucking much. His teeth were merely touched by a toothbrush before Dean planted his face on the pillow.

Soon all that could be heard was Dean's deep snores and a rumbling sound from the fridge.

When Dean woke up the next morning, he didn't notice anything was off until he was finished with his morning pee and washing his hands. He stopped in the middle of the wash and rolled his shoulders this way and that. He even raised his hands over his head. He felt nothing. No stab of pain, no dull ache, just soft and relaxed muscles.

Dean made a frown as he processed the thoughts washing over him. He settled on quiet acceptance. It was not like he could blame alcohol, and he sure as hell didn't feel tired anymore. As he was making breakfast, he grabbed some ice cubes and kicked them under the fridge.

“Thank you,” the deep voice greeted him.

And thank you to you too, my mysterious fridge monster.

It was like something had changed since that first meeting with the thing under the fridge. They settled into a quiet routine. It, or Cas as it said one day out of the blue with no further explanation when Dean was grabbing a bowl of ice cream, liked almost all food, but was especially fond of moldy tortilla bread and mushy bananas. But basically, anything that was turning from food into a rotting half sentient thing was deemed good.

Dean had tried on several occasions to actually see how Cas looked like and despite him asking several times he'd only received cryptic shit like “it depends”, and “I exist on several different planes and time spaces simultaneously' and “I have eyes”. Well, Dean had eyes too. 

One evening Dean said good night to Cas and then walked out of the kitchen. Ten minutes later he padded back on silent feet, holding a flashlight in hand. He tried to breathe slowly as he listened for sounds of Cas but all he could hear was the silent humming of the fridge. He ducked with speed down to the floor, shining a flashlight under the fridge but saw nothing. Son of a bitch.

A small chuckle came to him from the couch in the living room. “You can't see me, Dean. I'm always on the move. And you're slow.”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” Dean called from the kitchen.

Cas sounded amused. “I understand.”

Cheeky bastard.

They started to hang out together, watching TV together. Dean was not sure that they were friends, but it certainly felt like that. Since that day, Dean's shoulders never ached due to the stress and the assholery that Dick put him through at work. He'd tried to thank Cas, cause no one else could have been responsible for that but Cas had just chuckled and ignored him.

Dean had put on Hannibal, one of Cas' favorite shows. He hadn't been so sure what the allure was since he seemed mostly interested in food but if Cas liked to watch Hannibal be a creepy cannibal, Dean would indulge him. Besides, that Graham dude was kind of hot. 

Dean pressed play. He'd already seen the episode a thousand times, but it seemed to be one of Cas' favorites. He wondered if he should secretively be nervous that one of Cas' most liked storylines was the one were a killer kidnapped people and used them as fertilizer for his huge mushroom farm. 

One day he'd finally asked Cas what the appeal was about the show. Cas seemed to be drawn to Hannibal, most of all. “You seem to admire him,” Dean had said carefully. 

Cas had been quiet, like he always was when he pondered a question. “I do. He eats everything. Nothing goes to waste.” 

Dean hadn't dared to ask anything else.

Then he thought of the dreams that had invaded his sleep of late. Dreams about Cas. 

In those dreams, Cas was very much human, almost as tall as him with dark, always disheveled hair and blue eyes that shone with a quiet intensity. He had full lips, thighs so thick that Dean was sure he could crush watermelons with them, and a body that begged to be explored. Dean always woke up from those dreams confused as hell. Sure, he liked both men and women, and Cas was a great friend but he wasn't _human_. As fair as Dean knew, Cas could be a giant puddle of sentient goo. To his surprise, even that thought didn't deter him. 

He shook his head and concentrated on the episode.

Cas ate some of the chips Dean had tossed down under the floor.

“So, Cas, a question. How long have you lived here?”

The sound of crushed potato chips stopped and Cas spoke with that deep voice Dean had come to... no not love, but really like.

“Where?”

“Uh, here. How long have you lived in this apartment? You came with the place, right?”

There was a slight pause. “No.”

“No.” Dean tried not to let his confusion show. “The fridge then?”

“No.” There was another pause, longer this time before Cas spoke. “I came with you. It was always you.”

Dean's thoughts churned for a moment. Well, maybe longer than a moment but then it all came together with sudden clarity. “Holy fuck...”

“Yes...” Cas' voice sounded expectant.

“Always with me...You're the monster who lives under my bed.”

“Excellent! Yes, Dean, I'm always with you. Wherever you go, I go. Where you live, I live.” He sounded very pleased with himself. “You're smart for being a human.” Another crunch was heard as Cas munched on some more chips.

Dean's laugh was an incredulous snort. “Always with me right.”

“Yes.”

Dean licked his lips, hesitant to ask, but he was too curious not to.“Even in my dreams? I see you... as a human.”

The crushing sound of chips being devoured stopped. 

Dean was worried when the silence continued. “Cas, you there?”

After another pause, Cas' deep voice came from under the couch. “Of course.”

“Are you... I've been having weird dreams lately. About you and – You know what, never mind.” Great. Dean had just managed to offend one of his best friends. He still didn't know how Cas looked like. Maybe he was a giant slimy pancake, or some weird mist or something so alien even Lovecraft would go insane and here Dean went and told Cas he saw him as a human.

“Dreams are good”, Cas finally said after an eternity of silence. “Dreams are a portal.”

“A portal to what?”

Cas started munching on his chips again.

Dean shivered slightly as he folded the covers over himself. It had been colder outside than he expected and for a moment he contemplated getting up and shutting the windows but his sleep was at its best when the bedroom was chilly. 

Whatever. Dean tucked the covers closer to his body and closed his eyes.

He came to with the sensation of hands roaming his body. Soft hands that caressed his side and he opened his mouth to a moan at the feel of hot lips on his collarbone, slowly wandering up. 

“What's going – “

“Shh.”

Dean only got a glimpse of dark, messy hair and blue eyes that sparkled in amusement before he felt lips latch on to his nipple. The suction sent a shiver of pleasure down to his very toes and his cock instantly hardened.

“C-c-a-s?” he stammered.

Cas let go of his nipple, only to pinch the other one hard with his fingers. “In the flesh.” 

Dean sucked in a sharp breath, only to wince in pain as Cas used his fingernails. Just when Dean was about to beg Cas to stop, he let go of the abused nipple and gently caressed Dean's side before his hands traveled up. 

Cas grabbed him gently by the chin and turned his head one way before he lavished kisses on the exposed skin.

Dean couldn't resist any longer and grabbed Cas' shoulders. The touch was electrifying. His hands raked Cas' hair but soon even his hands forgot what they were doing as Dean felt a hand envelop his hard cock.

“Fuck, yes Cas, please.” Dean traced his hands down Cas' strong biceps.

“Please... So polite, Dean. How can I deny you when you ask so nicely?” Cas' voice was deeper than usual, lust coating every word.

Fuck, just that voice was enough to get Dean off. The hand around Dean's cock tightened and when Cas teased his thumb over Dean's slit, Dean bucked his hips. He wasn't even ashamed. 

Strong hands grabbed Dean's wrists, pushing his arms down on the bed. Dean's heart skipped a beat at the feeling. Cas was pure power and he liked it. The hand on his cock was fucking divine. Cas squeezed just right – 

Alarm flooded through Dean. He felt the distinct touch of _three_ hands. 

He tried to get up but Cas held on to his wrist, grabbing them tighter. Dean tried to deny the flash of arousal that went through him but the moan from his lips betrayed him. Still, he was compelled to say something. The hand around his cock tightened, and Dean had to close his eyes for a second. Was it possible to die from pure excitement?

“Cas, this is hot as fuck, but um... Something you wanna tell me?”

Cas looked at him, a teasing smile on his lips. His eyes almost glowed in the dark. “I have a lot of things I can tell you. I'm old.” He didn't let go of Dean's wrists. 

Dean twitched as Cas started stroking his cock with long, confident movements. He tried to move his wrists but it was as if they were stuck to the bed.

“Do you want me to ease up?” Cas loosened the hold marginally on Dean's wrists.

Licking his lips, Dean thought about the answer for two seconds, then he shook his head. 

“Use your words, please.”

Dean cleared his voice, but it still came out hoarse. “No. It's... good.”

“Mm.”

Cas clasped down on Dean's wrists again as Dean sighed in satisfaction. The hand around his cock tightened and Dean bucked up slightly, chasing more. More grip, more caresses, more pleasure, just more.

Another hand slowly caressed Dean's throat, fingers lazily going back and forth. They teased with promises of tighter grip, more pressure but never fulfilled. Dean was delirious with pleasure and for a horrifying second, he was so lost that words failed him. The hand on his throat stilled and Dean begged. “Don't stop, Cas.”

Cas smiled or made a face, not that Dean paid any attention since his eyes were closed. He had a hard time processing the sheer amount of pleasure his body was experiencing.

“I don't plan to stop.”

The hands around his throat tightened harshly and everything slowed down. Dean's heartbeat was a loud drum in his ears, and his pulse echoed wildly against Cas' palms. He tried to moan, make any sound and as he exhaled, Cas pressed infinitesimally harder on his throat. Dean's cock was the hardest it had ever been. His entire body was coiled tightly, ready to erupt. 

Just when Dean thought that he was about to die due to sexual overstimulation, a slick finger pressed against his hole. His whole world narrowed down to that prodding sensation and before he realized what was happening the hands around his throat tightened. A sharp pain in his nipples pushed him over. Dean came violently.

Dean woke up to the sensation of his come all over his cock, the cover sticky over his groin.

A sharp kiss over his throat made him freeze.

“I see you were enjoying yourself. Don't fucking move.”

The voice was unfamiliar. As Dean swallowed he felt the cold, sharp sting of the knife. The room was shrouded in darkness making it near impossible to discern any features of the intruder.

Dean licked his lips. He had no intention of moving. But he could talk. “Listen, you better back away.” He grimaced at the feel of the knife against his skin. He was very tempted to sneak in a 'fuck' or 'asshole' in there but thought better of it. 

The man laughed. “Why the fuck would I?” As if to prove his point, he leaned in closer. Dean's heart hammered wildly in his chest but he didn't move. 

He waited. He trusted.

Suddenly the intruder screamed and dropped the knife in surprise. “What the fu – “ His scream was cut short as he was pulled down under the bed.

Dean tried not to pay much attention to the sounds he heard from underneath. Of slurping and clawing and kicking. Soon it subsided. 

The silence was almost deafening for a few seconds. Then Dean became aware of his own breathing and the gentle song of night crickets. He contemplated closing the window but decided to leave it be. He was tired and the song was comforting. Before he turned to his side, he whispered, “Thanks, Cas.”

“You're welcome, Dean.”

Cas really did eat everything.


End file.
